


A Little Bad Habit

by saturnina



Category: Geostorm (2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Brother/Brother Incest, Dirty Talk, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Just porn really, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnina/pseuds/saturnina
Summary: Jake would never grow sick of hearing his brother beg, of watching him striped of his bureaucratic decency. Nothing ever made him feel so powerful, not building satellites nor saving the goddamned world, as making Max lose his composure did.





	A Little Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is supposed to be a sequel to my other story [Living in the worsts parts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505469), but due to its utter lack of plot, it can be read as a smutty stand alone without any problems. Enjoy~

The weekend was over and Olivia had come in person to pick Hannah up. At least he and his ex-wife were in talking terms now, although mostly in a monosyllabic way. Hannah hugged him and made him promise that he would spend at least one full week with her before he took off to the new ICSS again. That was 10 minutes ago. 

Ten minutes. The time it took for his old electric coffee-maker to brew him a decent pot in the morning. An insignificant scrap of time. And Max, who had just casually dropped by to see his niece, was already riding him on the cheap sofa-bed, moving as if possessed by an erotic plague.

And Jake would never admit out loud that he had been eagerly waiting for this, from the moment Max arrived. With Hannah around there was nothing they could do but to occasionally leer at each other, smothering the fire under a mask of pure brotherly affection. But here he was now, balls deep into his own little brother’s body and grunting like a beast. Kissing him madly. 

Equally possessed.

Jake liked to call it a little bad habit of theirs. Only it wasn’t little, it was intense and crazy, and ‘bad’ barely begun to cover how it would feel if they stopped to think about it. Only they never stopped, so the actual level of wrongness of their habit remained purposefully unexplored as of yet.

It was so unfair, how _good_ bad habits felt. This one, in particular, more than any other. Max’s body was hot and tight and perfect around him, his kisses as intoxicating as they were forbidden. And the love… that heart-bursting love he felt when he drunk Max’s strangled whimpers straight from his lips, swallowing his words, because Max was so damn vocal while fucking...

“ _Fuck_ Jake—harder, yes, like that—”

Max was vocal while... anything and everything, really, constantly chiming in to give his cents worth about all, as if in love with his own voice and his own brains. But Jake only truly came to appreciate his verbosity when he was like this, eyelids fluttering, jaw slack in pleasure, like an addict reaching a high.

It was like smoking or snorting or drinking. It was an addiction, bad for them, bad for their family, probably bad for the environment too. Bad and shameful. Only it wasn’t, because Jake knew he could smoke a whole pack of cigarettes at once, or snort a mile-long line—and God knew they didn’t build “Dutch Boy” on record time without a good deal of snorting—and never, _ever_ feel like this. 

“My, my,” he taunted, holding his brother’s hips down to restrict his frenetic undulations. “You were really needing it, uh?”

Max’s eyes focused on his, his expression something between miffed and horny. It would make Jake laugh if he weren’t struggling to keep himself from finishing too soon.

“Fuck Jake, just fuckin’ do it—”

Max didn’t want to talk, uh? Now that was something Jake didn’t see often. How the mighty fell…

“ _Please!_ ”

Oh, the helplessness in that voice, thickened by lust. Jake would never grow sick of hearing his brother beg, of watching him striped of his bureaucratic decency. Nothing ever made him feel so powerful, not building satellites nor saving the goddamned world, as making Max lose his composure did. And that was _his_ high. So he angled his thrusts better to give his brother the pleasure he knew Max sought and pistoned his hips up, slow and measured and so fucking sweet he could die of it.

“ _Oh yes_ ,” Max moaned, throwing his head back. “That, yes.”

The thing about drug addicts is that, at some point, someone confronts them about their bad habits. Or they die. But one way or another, it is the end of it. But no one confronted them, no one would dare to criticise two brothers because they visited each other and spent time together, especially after one of them had nearly died.

And so they kept at it. Their little bad habit growing into a big, dangerous monster of a habit neither of them made any effort to shake off. Jake pondered if there was any excuse he could use to take Max with him to the new ICSS, because, damn, he was going to miss him. Badly. 

"Fuck Jake, so close—!"

Jake brought his hand up to wrap around the glistening erection trapped between their bodies. Much to his surprise, Max slapped his hand away and focused on tightening his body around Jake, whimpering with need. Ah, the insufferable little slut. Wanting to come on his dick alone, eh? The imagery alone made Jake groan and nearly lose it right there. 

"Oh yes, ah—!"

He watched him, his little brother, come undone obscenely in his arms. He always held himself back to watch it and it was always worth it, to see the enraptured look in Max's face, no masks and mirrors, just a man riding out a pleasure unspeakable. Max's lubed up hole contracted rhythmically around Jake's cock as he spilled himself between their bellies.

“Don’t—don’t stop Jake, keep fucking me, keep—”

Now, how was he supposed to resist _that_? He didn’t. He held Max’s hips tightly enough to bruise and pulled him down onto his groin, onto his very hard and weeping cock, fucking Max through his orgasm and beyond it until his own climax hit him like a tidal wave, like the wild roar that escaped his lips. Like the come he pumped into his brother's insides in viscous spurts so—ah!

When the world stopped spinning, Jake opened his eyes. Max was a ruined ragdoll on his lap, his clammy forehead resting on Jake's shoulder, his breath coming out in small, erratic sobs. Jake hugged his brother tighter, feeling his deflating cock slip out of Max's spent hole. 

What a mess. Their bellies were covered in come, and some was probably trickling onto the floor by now. They did not even bother with condoms, a testimony to how bad their little habit was. They were addicts sharing needles, wanting to catch each other's disease. But Jake would be lying if he said he did not love it, just a little bit. Debauchery looked good on them. 

On Max, most of all.

"Hey, Max," Jake called, gently nudging his brother. "No sleeping here, alright? We gotta clean up."

"Mmm… not feeling dirty," Max answered, in a sleepy voice.

Jake chuckled in amusement. He stroked his brother's damp hair and kissed it, half-heartedly attempting to get him up again. Someday, they would have to confront this little bad habit of theirs. Someday, they would have to regret it, they would have to stop it.

But not today. Nor the day after. Nor any day Jake could be bothered to envision.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** None of the characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to me, and nothing said here about them is true. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
